


Distracted

by afteriwake



Series: I Can Explain... [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fluff, POV Sherlock Holmes, Secret Relationship, Sherlock Cooking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 01:24:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5145119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wants to impress Molly with his culinary skills but when she gets home from work he gets a bit distracted by her. Unfortunately, that distraction leads to Mrs. Hudson discovering their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distracted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IdrisSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisSmith/gifts).



> And I am finally updating this series! Yay! Anyway, this is based on a prompt from the person the series is gifted to, **IdrisSmith** of " _Sherlock burning the kitchen_ " (though I was a bit nicer to him than that). Enjoy, sweetie!

He could cook. Most people didn’t think he could, but he could. Granted, he wasn’t a gourmet chef of any sort, but he knew his way around a kitchen, and there were a few dishes he could make well, and he decided that tonight, he was going to make one or two to impress Molly. Every once in a while he wanted to impress her. It was an urge he got, that he just wanted her to look at him with a wide smile and adoration in her eyes. He cared about her greatly. He _might_ even go so far as to say he loved her. Possibly. He wasn’t sure he could say the words out loud just yet. Perhaps he could, if she said them first. If he knew she loved him then he could say them to her. He might be able to. But he cared for her very much, more than he sometimes knew how to deal with.

He was making shepherd’s pie, something that was easy to make that didn’t require much work. It was a slight variation on the dish, something he’d learned from a university friend who, when he’d been high on drugs and adventurous with what he put in his stomach when he got the cravings for food, had whipped together. It had always been the version he preferred, though he’d never told John that, eating his version every time he made it without complaint. He just hoped Molly enjoyed it.

He’d heard Mrs. Hudson leave earlier in the day and he hoped he got some private time with Molly for a while. While he suspected Mrs. Hudson knew the true nature of their relationship she didn’t say one thing or the other about it either way and he was glad for that. The fewer people who knew the better. It was safer that way, because there were still threats, still people who would like to harm him and those he cared about. If Molly wasn’t widely recognized as his girlfriend, as his lover, there wouldn’t be a neon sign above her head or a bright red target on her back. She’d be safer. 

He heard the door open and for a moment he was afraid it was Mrs. Hudson but then she heard Molly call out his name. “In the sitting room,” he called back.

She made her way upstairs and he could see her take a whiff of the aroma in the air. “Oh, my,” she said, wide smile on her face. “That smells divine.”

“Shepherd’s pie with a twist,” he said, moving towards her to embrace her. “A friend of mine in university came up with the recipe. It involves lamb, apricots, raisins and chickpeas. Very Moroccan.”

She nodded appreciatively. “He must have been very creative.”

“Well, back when he and I used to do particularly not so good for us things, I used to get creative with the violin and he used to get creative with food,” he said. “This was one of the few recipes he managed to recreate more or less when he was sober, with a few adjustments.”

“Ah,” she said. “Is it almost done?”

“About five more minutes,” he said, looking down at her.

“Then I suppose I shouldn’t distract you,” she said, playing with the button under the open part of his shirt. “But I did miss not having you come by Barts today.”

“Well, I had a case to work on that necessitated me running around London and spending time at Scotland Yard, and then I thought I might impress you with my culinary skills,” he said.

“If they’re like the rest of your skills I imagine I’ll be greatly impressed,” she said with a smile. “You’re a very impressive man, Sherlock.”

“I do like hearing things like that from you,” he said, bending down slightly to press a kiss to her pulse point.

Molly shut her eyes. “I could do with stoking your ego for a bit,” she said, moving her hands to the button and undoing it. “As long as you don’t move your lips from my neck.”

“Well, what if I move them lower?” he asked, moving them to her collarbone.

“You’ll find my jumper is in the way,” she said.

“I could always take it off,” he said.

“Along with my shirt?” she asked.

“If you want,” he replied.

“God yes,” she said quietly, moving her hands to undo another button. He began to move the two of them to the sofa and the sank down onto it, stretching out just slightly with Sherlock on top as he reached for the hem of her jumper and T-shirt, inching them both up and pulling them off over her head in one fluid motion, tossing them negligently to the side when she pulled her arms away from his shirt. When he was done she moved her hands back to his buttons as he trailed his lips to her chest. Soon she moved her hands away as he moved lower, kissing her breasts around her bra while he reached behind her to unfasten it.

After a few moments, though, he paused, and Molly sat up more. They looked at each other. “The door,” he said.

“Where did you throw my shirt?” she hissed as they heard Mrs. Hudson come up the stairs.

“Over there somewhere,” he said, beginning to button up his own shirt.

Molly looked around and saw he’d tossed them well over by the kitchen table. She hopped off the sofa, scrambled over and turned them right side out, pulling them over her head just in time for Mrs. Hudson to pop her head in. “Hello, dears,” she said brightly.

“Hello!” Molly said as Sherlock nodded.

“Hello,” he replied.

“Are you baking something?” she asked. “It smells as though it’s burning.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. “Damn,” he murmured, getting off the sofa. He went to the oven and opened it, and a small cloud of smoke came out. He pulled the tray out. “It appears the tops of the individual pies have burnt to a crisp, but I imagine the fillings are fine, if a bit overcooked.”

“Well, even if it isn’t part of the recipe, we could do something with potatoes, I suppose,” Molly said, coming over to look with Mrs. Hudson right behind her.

“I suppose,” Sherlock said. “I had hoped to impress you, though.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “It’s the thought and all that.”

“If the inside’s fine it’s salvageable,” Mrs. Hudson said with a smile. “And besides, I think if you give Molly a good snog or two she won’t mind. I mean, that’s what you were doing when you got distracted, right? Or more than that, I’d say.”

“What?” Molly and Sherlock chorused, surprised.

Mrs. Hudson chuckled, pointing to Molly’s jumper. “It’s on backwards, dear.”

Molly looked down and then turned red. “Oh my God,” she mumbled.

“It’s all right, dear. Your secret’s safe with me,” she said. “Personally you make each other happy and you both need that. But if you don’t want it to be public knowledge my lips are sealed. What happens in Baker Street stays in Baker Street.” Mrs. Hudson pursed her lips together and then pinched her fingers together and dragged them across her lips. “Well, I’ll leave the two of you alone. I’m sure you’d rather have an evening alone together than to have me interfering. Good night, dears.”

“Good night, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock said quietly, while Molly looked on in a daze. He turned and watched Mrs. Hudson leave and then turned back to Molly. “That was…unexpected.”

“Yes, it was,” she said quietly.

He looked at their supper and then turned to her. “Take a chance or call for takeaway?” he asked.

She tilted her head. “Takeaway sounds promising,” she said.

“I’ll get the menus, then,” he said. He’d impress her some other time, it seemed. For now, though, they’d share a meal and maybe, if he was lucky, pick up where they’d left off moments ago. He certainly hoped he would be that lucky.


End file.
